


fly me to the moon

by MyNeighborTellsMeStories



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Age Difference, Cancer, M/M, Slice of Life ish, jeongcheol - Freeform, meanie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-10-08 13:13:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10387425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyNeighborTellsMeStories/pseuds/MyNeighborTellsMeStories
Summary: When Seungcheol, a homeless college-dropout, is diagnosed with stage II Leukemia, he thanks God for deciding to end his shitty life early.That is, until he meets Yoon Jeonghan, fellow cancer patient and edifying swindler overlord-- then he really starts to question the laws of the universe





	

Seungcheol has had a lot of problems--so when he starts to have chronic nosebleeds, he really thinks that god’s favorite pastime is too shit on his life. 

“The couch?” he hears his best friend Mingyu whine. “Really?” 

A tall handsome man approaches where Seungcheol sits on the couch, cradling a box of tissues on his hand. He pulls out two and hands one to Seungcheol. 

“You really have some nerve,” he continues, wiping the blood stain on beige couch. 

“It’s dab, not wipe.” 

Mingyu stops and looks up at him. “What?” 

Seungcheol rolls his eyes, “You dab it,” he rips the tissue from Mingyu’s hand and starts pressing down on the blood stain, his other hand clutching his nose desperately.

“Alright,” Mingyu says as he takes another tissue from the box. “I got it.” 

“What would I do without you.” Seungcheol deadpans as he stands up. 

Mingyu rolls his eyes. “ I’m practically a saint. If I knew you’d be staining all my furniture, I would’ve kicked you out a year ago.” 

Seungcheol runs his free hand through his hair and blows into the tissue aggressively. He can feel the blood rapidly leak from his nose. 

“You think I want to hear you and your boyfriend have sex every night?”

Seungcheol shivers as he remembers the lude noises he heard a few days before. He moves to sit on the arm chair. “You’ve got some impressive stamina.” 

“Wonwoo likes it rough,” Mingyu shrugs as he up to go to the kitchen. He comes back moments later with a wet towel in hand. He spares a glance in Seungcheol’s direction and grimaces. 

“You look like a mess.” 

Seungcheol lets out a breathy laugh and sighs. “Thanks, I feel like one, too” 

“How long have they been happening?” 

“The nosebleeds? Hm, for a few months now.”

Mingyu stops attempting to clean the stain and turns his head to look at him, eyebrows furrowed. “The same time as those bruises?” 

Seungcheol nods. “Yeah, its weird. I also sweat alot when I sleep, and I’m always so tired.” 

Mingyu tsks and goes back to work. “That doesn’t sound so good. Ever think of checking that out? A good ol’e trip to the doctor?” 

Seungcheol scoffs. “You think I have the money for that shit? Newsflash, I have no job.” A bubble of annoyance builds in his chest as he’s reminded of his unemployment. 

“You’re fault for dropping out of college.” 

That’s when Seungcheol decides he had enough of this pointless banter and walks towards the door, dropping off his bloody tissue in the nearby trashcan on the the way out. 

“Where are you going?” Mingyu calls. 

“Out.” 

With that, he slams the door behind him. 

;; 

Seungcheol buries his hands deep in his pocket and trudges past nearby pedestrians in the cold New York winter. Fucking hell, he curses to himself as someone pushes by him, what a life. The walk to nearby cafe is anything but peaceful. He passes by a group of college kids huddling near the subway entrance and workers fast-walking home in the daily rush hour. 

If Seungcheol knew that he’d be reminded of what a failure he is then he would’ve stayed home. Then, he thought of Mingyu and decides against it. 

If it were a perfect world, Seungcheol’s decision to drop out of college and pursue his dream of becoming a singer would’ve been rewarded with getting scouted while riding the subway, and climbing his way up the entertainment ladder like a stoned monkey. 

His parents were perfectly supportive of his choice, they had bought him a guitar and paid for music lessons as a condolence. Seungcheol remembers those times as the peak of his life. But when his dad died in an unexpected car crash, and his mom sent to a mental hospital for severe depression after the family went bankrupt, Seungcheol thinks it’s an uphill battle. 

Except for the fact that the hill’s actually a huge ass mountain and Seungcheol’s been climbing it for 5 years to no avail. Now at 27, he really thinks he’s going to live the rest of his life leeching off of Mingyu’s hospitality. 

Seungcheol pushes the doors open and enters the nicely heated coffee shop. The sudden change in temperature makes the hairs on his skin stand on end, and he feels nausea ripple through his body. Seungcheol shakes it off and walks towards the barista. 

“How may I help you?” It takes a moment for Seungcheol to fully process these words. 

“Sorry?” he says, eyes squinting in concentration. Damn, his head’s really spinning now. Sweat starts to pool at his temples and his mouth begins to feel numb and watery. 

The cashier, Seungcheol makes out through heavily hooded lids, looks worried. “Sir? Are you okay? Sir?!” 

The world starts to sway a little and Seungcheol’s mad at everyone for making the ground shake so much. Can’t people walk without stomping? “Um, is it hot in here or is it just me?” 

He can’t really see anything, he just sees blurry figures and shadows. The world tilts at 180 and then he can’t see anything at all. 

;; 

Seungcheol wakes up to a brightly lit room and the smell of sterile alcohol. He starts to move a little but groans when a stinging pain shoots up his arm. He looks down and sees an IV stabbed up his arm. 

“Wha--?” 

“I wouldn’t move too much if I were you” 

He turns his head and sees Mingyu and his boyfriend standing at his bedside. 

“Mingyu, wha-, Wonwoo? Where am I?” Seungcheol tries to sit up, but Mingyu pushes him back down, there’s a grim expression on his face. 

“The hospital. You passed out and hit your head. Hard.” Wonwoo says.  
Seungcheol seems him reach down to hold Mingyu’s hand. Mingyu intertwines their fingers and they seem to mold perfectly with each other. 

Seungcheol raises his hand and touches his head. Sure enough, a white ace bandage was tightly wrapped against his forehead. 

“Just lay down, bud. The doctor will be here soon.” Mingyu shares a glance with Wonwoo, and consternation flutters in his stomach. He feels sick and sore, and kind of dead. 

The wait for the doctor is excruciatingly long. Seungcheol doesn’t know if it’s his heart that hurts of his head, but the looks that Mingyu and Wonwoo give him make him squirm with anst. 

Finally, the doctor walks in, stethoscope wrapped around his neck. His lips are pressed in a thin line and he carries those cool doctor folders that you only see in the movies. 

“Good morning, Seungcheol, “He begins (it’s morning? He couldn’t tell, the curtains were closed shut). “I’m your doctor, Dr. Cheng.” 

“Hello, Dr.” he says politely, though he inwardly urged him to continue with the diagnosis. 

“While you were unconscious, we ran some tests. You’re friend here said that you’ve been experiencing frequent nose bleeds and bruises, is that correct?” 

Seungcheol nods. 

“Some chills and excessive sweating?” 

Seungcheol nods again. 

“Those are some common symptoms of a blood disease called Leukemia. Have you heard of it? It seems to be a common trope in the entertainment industry nowadays.” 

Seungcheol swears that his neck might break from all this nodding. 

“We looked at your blood smear and ran some tests. I’m sorry to say that you’ve been diagnosed with Stage II Leukemia.” The doctor says this nonchalantly, as if it’s no big deal. 

But all Seungcheol really wants to do is laugh-- laugh like a crazy maniac, laugh until his insides hurt from abuse of his stomach muscles. But he waits for the doctor to finish. 

“It’d be of your best interest to stay at the hospital for treatment. You’ll be moved to the appropriate ward before evening. If you have any questions feel free to ask me.” 

Mingyu and Wonwoo bowed, “Thank you, Dr.” as he left the room. 

“Seungcheol?” Mingyu starts. “Cheol?” 

He clears the lump that formed in his throat. “Um. I’d like some time alone.” 

Mingyu nods, “Yeah sure, that’s okay,” he pulls at his and Wonwoo’s held hands and leaves. 

Seungcheol knows it’s an uphill battle. He’s known ever since his dad died. But at this moment, torn in an enigmatic mixing pot of fucked up feelings. But the worst part is, relief expands through his body, melting into all his crevices, brushing away all the burden and disappointment. 

He thinks about the day he got the call from the hospital, and how his dad was caught in an accident and was in critical condition. He prayed that he’d make it out alive, scratched up, bruised, maybe even permanent brain damage, but alive. He remembers when the police had escorted him and his mom out of the house because they couldn’t pay their taxes on time. He prayed for shelter then, too. 

He thinks about a lot of things-- as Charles Dickens once said-- it was the best of times, it was the worst of times. Seungcheol scoffs, more like the most fucked up of times. 

Sweet sweet relief, sweet sacharine death. 

He looks up at the ceiling. God? Is he really up there? If he is, then Seungcheol doesn’t know if he should thank him or curse him. 

;;

When he first enters, what he supposes the room he’d be staying at until his death, he’s met with a closed curtain. The curtain that separates him and his roommate is pulled shut and Seungcheol doesn’t know what’s going on on the other side, but he assumes it’s intense because the nurses rush in and out of his room. 

“What’s going on?” Seungcheol asks, whispering to the nurse who was helping him adjust into his bed. 

She looks up from where she was stabbing the IV into his arm. “Hm? Oh.” She pauses and purses her lips. Seungcheol urges her to continue. 

“It’s Jeonghan. It’s a relapse.” That’s all she says before she walks away from him, leaving him to wonder. 

When he wakes up next morning, he’s actually met with sunlight. The curtains that covered the window the day before were pulled open. He looks over hoping to see whoever this Jeonghan was-- if he was going to spend his last moments with someone, then he might as well try to get along with him. 

Instead, he sees and empty bed, sheets draped neatly over the side. Seungcheol lets out huff, at this rate, he’ll never be able to see his roommate. 

Suddenly, the door to his room was roughly opened, a boy with high cheekbones and brownish blond hair walked in, smiling brightly. A hospital gowned adorned his body, and he reminds Seungcheol of a hamster. 

“Jeonghan~~” he sings. He pauses when he sees the bed empty. “Jeonghan?” his eyes scan the room until they finally land on him. 

“Uh. Hi.” Seungcheol says, awkwardly waving his hand in hello. 

“Is this the wrong room? I don’t think so.” The boy places his hands on his hips. 

“Um, I don’t know what happened, but a bunch of doctors were in and out yesterday, so something probably went wrong.” There was a pause. “Sorry. “ 

The boy rolls his eyes unworridely and walks over to sit on Jeonghan’s bed. He can’t be more than a few years younger than himself, Seungcheol thinks, his physique sported that of a 20 something year old. 

“I’m Seungkwan,” the boy- Seungkwan- says eagerly. “Nice to meet you and all that jazz. No need for formalities here.” 

Seungcheol smiles and shifts uncomfortably. “Seungcheol.” 

“That’s it? You’re not going to tell me what you have?” Seungcheol’s eyebrow twitched, Seungkwan seems so brazen, he doesn’t know if he’s going to appreciate that or not. 

“There’s no need to be shy, we’re all going to die anyways,” Seungkwan continues. 

Seungcheol doesn’t know what to say, so he replies tersely. “Uh-- Leukemia. Just found out yesterday. “

Seungkwan’s face scrunches up. “Yesterday, damn, I bet you were in for a shock.” 

The older shrugged. “It was alright. Honestly, when you’re bleeding 24/7 and random bruises come out of fucking nowhere, it was expected. What about you?” 

Seungkwan leans back comfortably on the pillows. “I’m in the respiratory ward. Chronic obstructive pulmonary disease.” 

Seungcheol nods like he understood what he said. “Uh-huh.” 

Seungkwan laughs, catching Seungcheol cluelessness. “It’s not too bad. Just means that I stop breathing at times. No biggie.” 

Another moment of silence passes between them. It seems to Seungcheol that hospital dynamics were different than what he assumed it would be. Talking about personal issues might be a no-no in real life, a good sob story for free brownie points, but here, everyone had a problem. 

The door opened again, shaking Seungcheol out of his thoughts. From his peripherals, he sees Seungkwan shoot out of his bed and tackle whoever opened the door in a hug. 

A skinny boy reciprocated the embrace and patted Seungkwan’s back affectionately before forcing Seungkwan to release his death grip-- finally allowing Seungcheol to get a good look at his face. 

Damn. 

“Hi, I’m Jeonghan. You’re my new roommate, yes?”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm biting off more than I can chew. I'm a happy person :')) enjoy.


End file.
